


Constellation

by decidueye



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Greek and Roman Myth AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 11:18:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5332226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decidueye/pseuds/decidueye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The beach is quiet, except for at night.</p><p>Morisuke doesn’t move from it; he can’t bring himself to, lost in his own desolation and fury, because how dare he abandon him like this, after taking him away from his home. During the day, Morisuke only ventures far enough into the trees to gather fruit, biting into it and relishing the bitter taste of unripe juice on his tongue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Constellation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [medeadea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/medeadea/gifts).



> written as part of my [holiday fic fest!](http://fukurokeiji.tumblr.com/post/133902851764/fukurokeiji-holiday-season-is-upon-us-and-im)
> 
> ask an archaeologist for a mythology prompt and this is what you get - extremely loosely based on the story of bacchus and ariadne in ovid’s metamorphoses (because who doesn’t like stars).

The beach is quiet, except for at night.

Morisuke doesn’t move from it; he can’t bring himself to, lost in his own desolation and fury, because how  _dare_  he abandon him like this, after taking him away from his home. During the day, Morisuke only ventures far enough into the trees to gather fruit, biting into it and relishing the bitter taste of unripe juice on his tongue.

At night, Morisuke digs his feet into the sand and lets the coyotes drown out his own screams. He can’t see them, and maybe that’s what eases his terror enough for him to understand their cruel laughter. They’re laughing at him, and who can blame them? His situation is inane and there isn’t a damn thing he can do about it.

Ships don’t come by this island. It’s a miracle - a curse - that theirs did in the first place, and Morisuke doesn’t hope for rescue. The best thing, he thinks, drawing his cloak around himself in the wind, would be for him to let go of his anger and survive.

That’s not going to happen any time soon, though.

It’s Morisuke’s fifth evening since his abandonment when he hears the sound of another arrival. The sun is beginning to set and Morisuke is watching the sky’s burnt orange fade to black, trying to ignore the bitter wind, when he hears laughter. At first, he attributes it to the coyotes, but he sits up in time to see a chariot, adorned with gold and pulled by muscular panthers. Someone alights in a fluid, ethereal motion, peering curiously at Yaku from underneath a red hood.

“This is a strange place for a human to be setting up camp,” he says, and Morisuke narrows his eyes.

“Then what does that make you?” he asks, and the stranger looks at him, startled for a short moment before throwing his head back to laugh.

It’s an ugly sound, but it’s less cruel than the hounds Morisuke’s grown used to, and he feels himself relax in spite of his mistrust.

Nothing could make this worse, after all.

“Who knows? I was born by human thought, it’s up to you to define me,” he says, “I’m just here to have a good time. Speaking of which…”

He leers, and Morisuke rolls his eyes. That’s the last thing he wants to see.

“Not a chance. Do you have a name?”

“Kuroo,” the god - because of course Morisuke recognises the name, spoken by his father before feasts and over wine - offers his arm, and Morisuke grips it tightly, pulling himself up to stand in front of him. His head barely grazes Kuroo’s shoulders, and Morisuke glares before Kuroo has the chance to smirk, shouldering past him to eye the chariot.

“I don’t suppose I could ask for your help…” he says drily, and Kuroo laughs again.

“Not yet,” he says, “What’s in it for me?”

“Nothing.”

“At least you’re honest.”

Kuroo stays by his side that night, as though there’s no other way a god might better spend his time, and they talk. At first, Kuroo makes jokes, and Morisuke responds icily, still burning from the recent betrayal. He’s relentless, though, and Morisuke finds himself waning, finding a balance between Kuroo’s wit and his own, warming retorts, until he finally begins to share his story with Kuroo. Morisuke laments the loss of his father and Kuroo doesn’t try to comfort him. Instead, Kuroo distracts him, telling him about the day he first emerged from the fog of belief, and sharing choice stories of the experiences he’s been called upon to witness.

“Ecstasy…it’s a pretty good thing to be a patron of,” Kuroo laughs, “you wouldn’t believe the things humans get up to - or maybe you would, seeing as you’re one of them.”

Morisuke shrugs, tells Kuroo that he’s seen enough to understand human nature, and they move on.

“Hey,” Kuroo says as dawn approaches, stars fading in the sky. “You know what would be a really good way to get back at the asshole good for nothing that left you here?”

“What?”

Kuroo waggles his eyebrows, “Lie with the god of fertility.”

Morisuke snorts, shaking his head again, but he has a point. What else is there to do, anyway?

“Do you love me?” Morisuke asks, and Kuroo colours, coughing.

“No,” he replies after a moment’s pause, “but I like you.”

“Could you love me?”

“Maybe. Love is a fickle thing for people like me. You’re going to die, you know. Not here - I won’t let that happen - but somewhere, and soon.”

Morisuke hums, silent, examining the horizon.

“I should probably live a little first, then, don’t you think?”

The sex is rough, Kuroo pressing Morisuke into the warm fabric of his cloak, and Morisuke tastes wine on Kuroo’s lips, in his throat and on his tongue. He’s filled with - something, something he can’t quite place - and he can’t bring himself to care about his discomfort when Kuroo laughs into his sternum, Morisuke’s own moans drowned out as it rings in his ears.

When they’re done, Kuroo taps the circlet around Morisuke’s head, his weight pressing down on him, humming, amused.

“I’m amazed this thing stayed on,” he comments, and Morisuke laughed.

“It’s made to.”

“Can I have it?” Kuroo asks, after a moment. “Would you give it to me?”

“What’s a god going to do with a crown?”

“You’re going to die, Morisuke,” Kuroo says, and it hurts more than the first time he said it. “You’re going to die, but I can make you last forever.”

His expression is unreadable. Morisuke searches his face as the sky lightens to a deep navy before conceding. “Very well. Show me how.”

Kuroo lifts himself off Morisuke and the crown comes with him. He holds it tightly in his hand, grinning eagerly as Morisuke sits up.

“This is going to look  _incredible_ ,” Kuroo says, “like nothing you’ve ever seen,” and then he tosses the crown into the air.

Morisuke looks up in time to see seven stars forming in the air, but his wonder is contained until he looks back at Kuroo, whose robes are moving softly in the wind. His nose is turned up towards the sky, a proud smile on his face, and his hair is wild and there’s something about him that screams of power.

There is no better  _fuck you_  than sleeping with a god, Morisuke thinks, and laughs in spite of himself. Kuroo turns at the sound, affronted, but on seeing Morisuke’s face he laughs too, loud and ugly and kind, kinder than anything Morisuke’s ever heard before.

“I don’t love you either,” Morisuke says when their laughter has died down, pulling his cloak around him tightly, “but I’m glad you will remember me.”

Kuroo smiles, wild and gentle, and takes Morisuke’s hand. They step on his chariot together, and when Morisuke closes his eyes it isn’t home he dreams of, but an eternity in the sky.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/kastronetic) and [tumblr](http://fukurokeiji.tumblr.com/)


End file.
